What is the End Game?

 

JJ Hart, Woman in Red.

Wow! My journey was a long one to transgender womanhood where I always thought I should be. Nearly fifty years from being a part-time cross dresser to fulltime transgender woman. 

The problem was getting there, because the end game scared me so much. I was in my own gender quicksand and could not seem to get out. I had no dashing cowboy riding up to rescue the damsel in distress. I was on my own. So, I persisted through countless days in front of the mirror or combing through thrift stores searching for just the correct fashion statement.

The more I learned about my feminine self, the more I realized how strong she was and how I needed to protect our relationship. The more I did, the more I began to see the end game could be in sight, if I wanted it bad enough. I knew the possible pain of giving up family, friends, spouses and employment to see the end game in person. The problem was, I was gaining more and more experience in my feminine life and every time I did, I did not want to go back to my unwanted, boring male self but I did. Over and over again until it wrecked my mental health and almost cost me my life. 

Still, I kept my eye on the goals I had set which brought me ever closer to my end game of living life as a transgender woman. Along the path I had set for myself, I still had very real doubts if I could do it. I also found out quickly, just daydreaming my life away about being a woman or cross dressing in front of the mirror was not working anymore. I needed to get out in the public's eye and live to be certain I could do it all if I needed to. 

Spoiler alert, I needed to learn all I could to survive in the very competitive world of women. I thought men were bad, but women brought a whole new intensity of competitiveness to their world with other women. In order to survive in the girls' sandbox, I needed to bring a whole level of intensity myself to keep up because on occasion there was quite a bit of kicking and scratching going on behind my back. Once I adjusted to the new world I was in, I was OK after all the scratches on my back healed. Plus, I always kept in the back of my mind, I needed to be better than the average cisgender woman to survive. Mainly because I had so much more catching up to do and I never wanted to get discovered presenting the least bit as masculine. If I ever did and slipped back into old habits, I would have to work so much harder to regain my place in the world as a trans woman.

As I did, I found I naturally was fitting into my authentic life, I found myself at a crossroads of gender. Most importantly, at the crossroads I could see what my end game was. Since I was increasingly thriving in my transgender womanhood, I saw no reason to go back. When I did, a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders and life was livable again. 

I had found my end game was achievable and when I did, all things were possible.  

Opening Transgender Doors

 

Image from Sara Darcaj on Unplash.

To me, life is a process when we are born and doors open and when you die, and doors close.

For transgender women and trans men, sometimes the process is more intense. Depending upon where you view yourself in the gender process, we go through a series of doors until we reach our dreams. On a personal note, I think I went through at least three or four transitions before I arrived where I am today. The first realization I had was when I was quite young and understood when I looked in the mirror cross dressed, it was only the beginning. I wanted to do so much more than just look like a girl; I wanted to live her life also. I equated it to the problems I had with my gender roller coaster. When I was able to dress as my feminine self, I was satisfied and happy, for a couple days until I became depressed and moody again. Looking back, I equate the process with knowing I was transgender but back then, the information on being trans just wasn't available.

My second big transition came when I learned I did not have to wait another whole year between Halloweens to test the world as me. I was desperate not to have to wait a whole year before I could learn again the feminine lessons I needed to move on to my next major transition. I refer to it quite a bit as the time I suddenly realized I wasn't a part-time cross dresser at all, I was a much scarier prospect, I was a transgender woman. A term which was just being known and popularized. I say scarier because accepting the fact I was transgender meant I needed to apply a deeper understanding to who I was on another level. Not just reapplying myself to more effective feminine presentations. Along the way, I had reached the point when I could blend in with society as myself, so I had the time and inner energy to move my life forward towards my dream which involved my next transition. 

The important aspect of my next major door to go through was the simple knowledge I could indeed establish a new life on the other side of the gender frontier. Confidence was everything as I decided to knock on the door of gender affirming hormones. I bravely sought out a doctor who would prescribe my minimal dosages of the meds until he could see I had no adverse problems. At that point, it was obvious to me my body had taken to the new hormones in a very unprecedented way. It was as if I should have been on the new treatment all my life. 

In turn, the changes the hormones made were nothing short of amazing. I could and have written entire blog posts on the hormonal subject and what it meant to me. At the least, all the doors I was able to go through in my life, made life much less boring and interesting. Just wondering what would be behind the next door was scary but exciting since changing genders into what you always should have been, made life worthwhile for me. 

Without doors to encounter, my life began to slow, and I had a chance to enjoy my true self thanks to new friends I had made. Along with my desire to see what is behind the next door.

A Line in the Sand

Image from Lance Asper
on UnSplash

 It has been over a decade now when I decided to finally draw a line in the sand and give up on my well-worn, unwanted male self.

I say well worn, because I had spent nearly sixty years trying my best to live up to the supposed ideals of the male gender. It was exhausting keeping up with all the testosterone driven male "club." Still, I persisted and managed to build a fairly successful life. Once I was successful and had built up my share of male privilege, it was difficult to want to give it all up.

The pressure of having the possibility to live my dream of transgender womanhood finally got the best of me after a very serious suicide attempt. Finally, I needed to draw the line in the sand and do the right thing. The thing I had worked all those years of being a cross dresser to do. Even still, I knew deep down what I needed to face and do. It was just because at times, the line appeared to me as deep as a canyon. It was scary trying my best to jump it and exactly what was on the other side. I was fortunate in that I was able to research deeply what a life would be like as a transgender woman. 

I did my best to live out the life I would expect to live if I transitioned from a cross dresser to transgender woman. Against all personal odds, I was able to find a whole new set of friends and acquaintances who accepted my authentic self. They in turn, taught me so much about being myself. What worked and what did not. For example, I did not want to be too loud or impulsive but on the other hand I could not be very introverted because I would be mistaken for being bitchy. For a while, it was touch and go in my learning process, until I felt confident. 

I compare the process to a gentle pleasant wind coming up and blowing away my line in the sand. Very soon, I could not see where it even was. When it happened, it made up for every male privilege I lost. Quickly I forgot how I felt when I was "mansplained" by a guy or how I felt when I made to feel I had lost part of my intelligence just because I was a woman. I just knew how important I felt when I had finally arrived on the other side of my line in the sand.

Old friends, and part of my family were gone but quickly I was able to replace them with new friends and another accepting family unit. In many ways, life was still terrifying but so much more exciting and satisfying. I should have never waited as long as I did to erase my line in the sand. No more thoughts of suicide and for once being able to be myself were just a couple of the benefits. 

A Spectator in my Own Life

 

Image from Ryan 
Mangino on UnSplash.

There were many times during my life as a transgender woman, I felt as if I was a spectator looking in on the action.

The whole process was very strange to say the least as I was thinking, just who was that person. Plus, having the chance to think what I was doing was a totally different sensation. The entire problem stemmed I think, from the earlier years of my life when I was positive, I was two different people all together. One male and one female. It was not until much later on when I began to realize I was always feminine and fought all things male when I could.

Slowly but surely, I began to realize the truth and began to notice my cross-dressing nights out involved much more than just attempting to look the best I could. My spectator began slowly to change away from watching a male life unfold to watching a female one do the same. Helping me were the girls-night-out invitations I received. Following a bout of impostor's syndrome, I suffered through, I settled down and enjoyed myself. When I came to the conclusion I had just as much right there as the next woman. We had all came to our right of womanhood through different paths and mine was just different.

Finally, I grew tired of just being a spectator in my feminine life and wanted more. More meant being a spectator in my male life. Since I was still working and living part-time as a man, it meant I really needed to concentrate on my speech and movements when I was still a guy. In fact, there were a couple of embarrassing times when I was called Ma'am at work when I was in male mode. 

Early on, being a spectator in my own life was certainly a curiosity. Especially, when I thought I was just a cross dresser and putting on a dress was just a hobby. The closer I moved to true transgender womanhood, the more I learned that was not true. As I always say, the key moment in my life came when I realized I was not a man cross dressing as a woman, I was a woman cross dressing as a man. The tragic part was I went through male puberty and was testosterone poisoned as I grew up. I did not appreciate when my soft body turned to hardened angles as well as the other male changes but there was nothing I could do.

When I found my gender destination, I stopped being a spectator and began to be a more involved participant. For me, flipping my gender became an intensely frightening but natural part of my life. Living my dream was so dominant in my thought pattern, I had no problem with girls-nights-out and even could not wait for them. My newfound confidence as a woman completely pushed any idea of me being a spectator aside and opened the door for me to be a more well-rounded participant. Of course, confidence always grows more confidence, and I grew to the point where I had nothing else to prove to the other women I was around.

As I look back, being a spectator in my own life as sometimes a necessary but very different part of my existence. The entire process sometimes helped me to understand where I was going towards my dream of transgender womanhood.  

No Struggle no Progress

 

Image from UnSplash.

Basically, when it comes to doing anything really important in life, to progress you need to struggle.

As far as being transgender, often it seems our struggles are impacted. First of all, most of us are not blessed with any natural feminine characteristics to work with. At least, I did not think I had any except perhaps my legs which often ruined my fashion sense when I tried to focus on my legs and not try to cover up my wide torso and broad shoulders. I struggled with my overall image until I got it right and I began to blend in with the public at large. 

Far more important to me was the mental struggle which went along with my journey to transgender womanhood. For the longest time, it seemed as if every step forward I achieved in the world as a novice transgender woman was met by taking three steps back. Or when I thought I had conquered the world of high heels, I would catch my heel in a sidewalk crack and break it. Who knew you had to put so much work into being a girl and it was only the beginning. 

Along the way, my life became a battle between two genders and for the most part, the battle destroyed me. Especially, my already frail mental health since I was already diagnosed as being Bi-Polar, I did not need any other problems I never asked for. Regardless, life moved on as I tried to roll with the punches. I was cross dressing as much as I could while at the same time, I was trying to live a life as a successful man. I managed to stay married to the same woman for twenty -five years while at the same time making good progression in my employment career. Sadly, I was stubborn, and struggle was all I knew as I lived my life. If I would have ever relaxed and looked around, I would have seen much of my progress came from just running from my problems and not facing them. My wife said it best one day when we were locked in yet another brutal argument. She said, why did not I be man enough to be a woman. The logical answer to the question was, I simply was not ready and still had a lot to learn before I jumped the male gender ship and began to live as a transgender woman. 

Very soon, my struggles reached a critical tipping point where progress was becoming the norm. I was reaching the point where I could be man enough to be a woman out of sheer determination. Sadly, by this point, my wife had passed away, so she never had a chance to meet the woman I had become. Again, I needed to struggle through a new reality of being alone after all of those years. It did not take me long to turn to my feminine self for help. In fact, the last date I had set up with another woman as a man was to an outdoor concert. At the last minute, the woman backed out, so I did the next best thing and took myself. My feminine self-had a great time and I never tried to go out with a woman as a man again.

As I began to see and reach my potential as a transgender woman, my mental health improved as well as my life as a whole. When it did, my struggles went with it.

And Then he Was Gone

 

JJ Hart at Club Diversity
Columbus, Ohio

It took me nearly a half a century to rid myself of my male self and begin living as my authentic feminine self.

Even though much of my progress towards my gender goal was physical, much was mental also. The physical part I am referring to was the portion of my transition which revolved an intense period of time I went through attempting to judge my appearance in my own personal mirror. I was so into myself, my wife began to call me the pretty, pretty princess and told me I was ignoring what a woman really was. She was right and it took me years of research and struggle to learn what she really meant. 

As I learned, the more my male self-fought me as he did not want to give up any of his life and male privileges he had fought so long to earn. It seemed every small gender victory was hard earned until he was gone.

Perhaps the biggest factor against him was I felt so excited and natural in the new world of transgender womanhood I was creating. Surely, I was still having my ups and downs when I tried out the public when I went out, but the downs were becoming fewer and farther between. Plus, my amount of terror I was still experiencing as a transgender woman was decreasing by the day. I think now, the major reason was I finally made the mental decision to go forth in the world as a woman on my own terms rather than the part time cross dresser I had somehow portrayed myself to be. Some may say I was dealing in semantics, but the thought pattern was a revelation for me. 

As he disappeared, my female self-had no problems filling the void in my life. My long-buried woman self-had no problem putting her past behind her as she stepped out into the bright lights of a new world. I think having no resentment made her a better person people could relate to and like. In fact, I found many new people related to me as a woman than ever before as a man. 

Ironically, after a very slow start to the fifty years of gender discovery I endured, once I seriously started my transition. time went very fast. Perhaps, it was because every night I went out, I was learning so much new on not being just the pretty, pretty princess and finally experiencing what my wife told me about being a woman was all about. Or I was finally given the chance to go behind the feminine gender curtain into a world dominated by women. When I did, I found women ran their own world their own way without the help of men. During the girls' nights out, I was invited to I learned what was important to women and not men. Even along the way, I learned the power of non-verbal communication between women when one night I was warned away from an intoxicated man in a venue I was a regular in by a bartender I knew. With one look, I immediately went the other way away from him and was safe.

Finally, after so much learning and experiencing a new life as a transgender woman, I think my male self-saw the writing on the wall and decided he was done. When he did, a huge weight was lifted from my shoulders. It seemed carrying two people all those years took a toll on me, and I wanted out. 

Staying in your Own Lane

 

Image from Gabriel
Silverio on UnSplash.

As I transitioned into my own version of transgender womanhood, there were plenty of opportunities to not stay in my own lane.

First of all, I needed to get my presentation house in order so I could even receive a fair chance at starting. Paraphrasing "Stana" of "Femulate Blog" fame, in order to pass properly, I needed to first signal before I accelerated and moved to the outside lane. For me, acceleration was not an immediate or easy thing to do. Before I began to see any progress, I needed to put the mirror behind me and seek approval from the public at large. Once I was able to do that, then I needed to push away any of my ingrained male thoughts I was having on how I should look. He was leading me towards a totally trashy look which was attracting too much negative attention. If I wanted to stay in the feminine lane and be successful at all, I would have to change...quickly.

Once I began to be more comfortable and accepted in the feminine lane I was in, I needed to then learn all the nuances of the new life I had chosen. Immediately, the concept of passive aggression got to me. Too many times, I was fooled by another woman's smiling face or indirect suggestions. Examples included the times when I was complimented on how I looked. I was told how good I looked without the extra statement, for a man dressed as a woman. Regardless, I had too many claw marks down my back from encounters with women who I perceived as harmless. It took me awhile to learn the new lane I was in with other women. Once the scars healed on my back, I developed the knowledge and thick skin I would need to get in the passing lane and survive.

As I cautiously began to live more and more in my new gender lane, the more natural life became. I developed a whole new group of women friends and learned tons of ideas from them on how to stay where I was. The group of us partied into many nights and I discovered I was still messing up by trying to live in both gender worlds. I guess you could say, when the going became rough in the feminine lane I was in, I could always escape back into my male privileged world I knew so well. Finally, with the help of my friends who were primarily lesbians, they taught me my validation did not have to come from men, it could come from within. It was the only signal I needed to switch gender lanes and stay there.

These days, with the current political climate, we transgender women and trans men are trying to be forced back into our original lanes. It is in times such as these when we still have to be as visible as possible and live our lives as authentically as possible. As I have written several times, my own demarcation point of support is coming up in May with the Veterans Administration health care system. In May I have an appointment with my Endocrinologist and the opportunity to get my Estradiol prescription renewed. I naturally don't have total confidence the government won't step in and block my gender affirming hormones. I am sure, I will be writing about my fears as the date gets closer.

I am desperately trying to stay in my own lane which meant years ago I was able to live as the person I was always meant to be. At my current age of seventy-five, there is no way I am going back to my old lane I was unhappily living.     

A Push versus a Dream

 

JJ Hart

I often describe my journey to transgender womanhood as the impossible dream. 

On the other hand, I cannot ignore all the pushing I needed to do to arrive at my goal. My pushing started at a very young age when I was first cross dressing in front of the mirror. To begin with, I needed to push hard to find hiding places for my exceedingly small, treasured collection of feminine wardrobe selections. I resorted to old boxes in the garage attic, all the way to a hollowed-out tree in the woods next door to our house. In trash bags. Anything to stay safe with my secret. I knew if I was exposed, life as I knew it would be over.

I did push on and survive so my dream was still intact when I went to college and then served out my time in the military. My military time was especially stressful as I needed again to carefully conceal any idea, I was feminine at all. Through it all, I needed to keep my thoughts centered on a far-away dream I had of being able to live as a transgender woman. Sadly, there were too many times when I did not see how I could make it at all. Especially when the Army was strongly reinforcing my manhood. 

As in many other facets of life, the Army came and went leaving me a sense of freedom of what I could do concerning my gender issues. My first marriage came shortly following my discharge from the military and left me still wondering about what was going on. My first wife knew I was a cross dresser and did not really care, so I was left on my own to make any gender decisions I might decide on. This was back in the late 1970's and there was very little information on even being a cross dresser available. Again, I was on my own until the computer became a reality, and I was able to reach out to others. I learned quickly I was not alone and began to push for more clarity in my life. I even was able to dream more frequently of being able to live as my authentic self.

Before I did, I needed to determine what my authentic self really was and push to get there. This meant going down a largely selfish road as I carefully checked my gender boxes. It took me years to figure it out until I was able to merge how hard I was pushing with my ultimate gender dream of a being a transgender woman. My authentic self which was revealing her-self When she did, she left no doubt on why I felt the way I had my entire life. Something was not quite right, and I pushed on to figure out what the problem was. In the meantime, I treaded water cross dressing in front of the mirror until I found the courage and confidence to try going public.

Each and every time I was successful at all in dealing with the world, my dream was re-ignited, and I started to push through or totally ignore any gender warning signs I encountered. Everything I was doing put me completely at odds with my second wife, who again knew I was a cross dresser but never wanted me to leave the house dressed. Not only did I break my promise to her, but I also went as far as beginning a whole new life. My new life rapidly became very important to me mainly because I was happier and the whole life felt so much more natural.

My lifetime full of pushing finally aligned with my ultimate dream of transgender womanhood. Destiny opened my gender doors at the age of sixty and I took complete advantage. 

Burning Gender Bridges

 

Image from Adam Wilson
on UnSplash

During my life, I have always excelled in self-destruction. It seemed, whenever I had succeeded in anything positive, I always tried to tear it down. 

I blame the entire process on two basics, one of which on how I was raised. My parents never accentuated the positive at any time. If I received a "B" in any class, invariably I heard, why didn't I earn an "A" and I was not applying myself properly. The other basic was anything I accomplished as my male self; I did my best to reject. I did not in any way want to accept any success I earned as a male. So, I did my best to burn the gender bridge I created. 

Of course, the more I went down my gender path towards transgender womanhood, the more bridges I needed to burn. Everywhere I looked, the stakes were higher in life. All along I was accumulating more and more success as my unwanted male self which made my decision so much more difficult. Still, I forged on with my torch burning brightly. To hell with the results, I was going to attempt to follow my gender dreams anyway. Finally, I arrived at the point where seemingly I was subconsciously trying to sabotage myself. In many ways, I was desperately attempting to hide my deep dark cross-dressing secret while, on the other hand, I secretly wanted everyone to know I had always wanted to live as my authentic feminine self and did not care what they thought. Still, I needed to be careful as I had deep roots to my male past. Spouses, family and jobs were at stake. So, I tried to be sure of what I was doing before I cut the gender tree down.

Perhaps the most substantial bridge I needed to burn was to my job. I was a very successful restaurant manager in a regional/national casual restaurant chain. The management was very male dominated, and I knew there was no way I could ever transition in the same job. 

I decided to try going to other similar food/bar competitors thinking no one would recognize me. Long story short, I found out the hard way I was recognized as a version of my male self. To make matters worse, I tried to frequent my own operation and was close to being immediately recognized. In doing so, I burnt a major bridge which I don't think my wife ever found out about. It was bad enough when she knew I was breaking the agreement we had for me to never leave the house as a transgender woman.

The new bridge I built when I burnt the old one was when I decided to buy my own restaurant. I figured if I was the owner, no one could tell me what to do. That was true to an extent until one night a very evil former acquaintance met me in the parking lot to tell me my lifestyle was keeping the public away where we operated. I don't know how true what he said was but one way or another, I had burnt all my gender bridges and there was no way I could ever go back. 

When I transitioned and began my life as a transgender woman, I was able to build new strong bridges for the first time in my life. It was like my feminine soul was excellent in her building skills and could not wait for a chance to thrive.

The sad part was/is how much destruction I had to go through just to arrive at where my dream could be born. It turned out the birth was the easiest part of it all, as I set out to live a fulltime new life in my transgender womanhood. I finally had the chance to put my fire out. At least the destructive one.